


I see the wires pulling while you're breathing

by VolxdoSioda



Series: FFXV Kink Meme Fills [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Face Slapping, King/Shield dynamics, M/M, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 03:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16009685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Noctis tends to drown himself under fear and worry and not tell anyone until he's sinking up to his chin in anxiety, so Gladio's learned to keep an eye on him over the years, and take him apart when he needs it.The trick, of course, being figuring out what Noctis is asking for, given the Prince refuses to vocalize it.





	I see the wires pulling while you're breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _Gladio slaps Noct across the face to shut him up, and figures out that Noct likes it._

It figures that it takes Noctis pushing Gladio's buttons in a swamp for him to figure out what's going on, yet again. Their Prince isn't great at simply telling Gladio what he needs, when the guilt and the grief and the responsibility pile too high on his shoulders, when the doubt in his head is too loud and he needs something to drown it out. So half the time Gladio's flying by the seat of his pants, watching Noctis for signs of slipping into the darkness of his own head, and trying to figure out how to combat it. 

He's a good Shield, but he's still a man. He has limits. And Noctis, like the true little shit of a Prince he is, always finds a way to burrow beneath those limits and scratch him raw. 

But that doesn't mean Gladio intended violence. Never. Which is what makes his response to one ill timed, "Wow, you talk so much shit about  _me_ swinging wrong, but you're throwing that sword around like a goddamned bat," so absolutely  _bad._

Because one second he's seeing red, and the next he hears the  _smack_ like he's in a tunnel, and Noctis is on his ass in the mud, looking utterly shocked, red faced as he holds a hand to the abused cheek.

Gladio's shocked too, shocked and  _horrified_ because no,  _no, he didn't mean to do that, holy Six, why--_

"Glad--"

"Noct--"

"Stop."

Both Ignis and Gladio stop their words, as Noctis raises his voice. He shakes his head sharply, and then stands. "I'm fine," he says. "Ignis, don't be mad at him. That was below the belt. I'm sorry, Gladio."

Gladio can't push the words  _don't you dare fucking apologize when I just **hit you** goddamn it _out of his throat. But he thinks the noise he makes, grated and rough, amounts to the same. Noctis doesn't look back, doesn't say anything else.

Ignis glares daggers at him all the way to the camp, and Gladio very carefully keeps his distance. 

He's fucked up once already today, he has no desire to do it again.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

The second time it happens, they're in the middle of a fight, and Noctis is in stasis.

This one is a little gentler, if only because Gladio doesn't do it out of anger, he does it out of desperation. Out of fear, because Noctis is on the ground, and these blowhards are big bastards with  _hooves_ the size of dinner plates. They stopped caring about Noctis for the moment, but if they come back and run him over...

He shakes the Prince, trying to get him up, and when that doesn't work, slaps him across the face twice. "Get up!" He roars, and in his grip Noctis gasps and vibrates, suddenly seeming to come to life.

"I'm up, I'm up," he says, and Gladio pulls him up. 

"Get moving, then!"

In the aftermath, he realizes  _you idiot, you did it again_ and goes to apologize. Because that's twice now he's laid hands on Noctis, and he has absolutely no desire to keep up the trend.

Except.

"Gladio, listen to me. It's  _fine._ Okay? Don't feel guilty. You needed me up, and you did what was necessary. And I'm giving you permission to do it again if you need to, okay? I know Ignis doesn't like it, but you've never hurt me before."

Gladio swallows the bitter taste in the back of his throat. "I hit you in anger."

"Yeah, well I was being a little shit. You know the saying. Talk shit, get hit. I was talking shit, so I got hit. Not a big deal. I'm still alive. But if I'm... slowing down, or flagging, and it takes you slapping me to stay upright, then just do it, alright? We'll figure out the rest later."

Gladio wants to argue. Really wants to argue. But at the same time - something tells him this slapping thing isn't just about keeping Noctis on his feet. He doesn't have proof, but he has his suspicions. Because in the past Noctis has never allowed anyone to lay hands on him like this - not even Gladio. And certainly not for the reasons he's stating now.

Something is shifting beneath them, a wave of actions and consequences and choices. Gladio's going to have to keep an eye on Noctis, and see if this is one of  _those_ things. 

"Fine," he says at last, because Noctis is still waiting for him to say something. "But I don't have to like it."

Noctis just smiles.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

The third time he does it, it's because Noctis scared him shitless. 

They're in the damned caves behind the waterfall with the fucking  _snake woman,_ and Prompto had screamed bloody murder and vanished and then  _Noctis_ had vanished, and--

Yeah okay, maybe he's lost a few years off his life. 

And it isn't intentional, but he's still holding on to that fear even as they break camp. Even as Ignis and Prompto settle in for sleep, and Noctis glances up at him over the fire and asks, "Wanna spar?"

It's not quite dusk yet, so they take it further from camp, away from the haven and out into the wilds. No point in waking Iggy and Prom up for this.

It works out well when Noctis, clearly understanding what's fixing to come, says, "Stop holding back."

So Gladio slaps him.

He doesn't quite end up on his ass, but he stumbles.

And _there._

Noctis breathing stutters, his face burns, and his eyes go dark. The truth comes together in a snap of puzzle pieces, but Gladio doesn't let the revelation distract him.

"You scared me today, Princess. Don't fucking do that again."

Noctis licks his lips and nods slowly. "Sorry," he says, and there's a slight slur to the edge of his words that makes Gladio think there's more to the slaps than just a craving to be made obedient. 

This is one of  _those things,_ which means Gladio's got another tool to help keep the voices out of Noctis' head. To command him. He lets out a deep breath, and tells himself  _he's alive, he's breathing, that's all that matters._

"Sparring," he says, because he has to get the rest of this anger out somehow, and he's not in the mood to pin Noctis and drive him out of his own head. They don't have the time for it, either. He'll have to make time soon though, because Noctis looks like he needs it. Badly. "Show me what you can do."

They do basic drills until the sun falls too low, and then they go back to camp, and straight to sleep. Noctis winds himself around Gladio like a vine, the tension in his body practically a plea by itself. 

Gladio runs a hand down Noctis' side, and tells himself he'll start scouting for private spots in the morning.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

The fourth time resembles the first in that Noctis is looking for a fight. But in this case, he's looking for an  _actual fight,_ and Gladio only realizes it when Noctis takes off in the dead of night and goes charging towards an Iron Giant  _all by himself._

Again, he loses years off his life.

But more than that, he's  _roaring fucking furious_ over Noctis' idioticy. Deliberate or not.

"You lookin' to die?" he snarls as the Giant dies, no one in the far off outpost (including Iggy and Prom) any the wiser. "Because I'll gladly put you in the ground myself Highness, before I let any daemon get it's claws in you!"

"Well c'mon then and hit me, Gladio," he hisses, and in the low light he looks like a feral creature himself, all bared teeth and weapons out. " _Fight me."_

So Gladio does. They fight, and god it feels amazing. And yeah, it's probably suicidal being out here in the dark, what feels like a million miles from the safety of the lights. But he is nothing if not Noctis' Shield - and that means providing safety against every threat he has. Even himself.

So he flings his sword, smashes Noctis down with his shield, sends him flying, breaks him, covers him in dirt and dust and blood and spit, and every time Noctis comes back for more, Gladio gives it to him. He gives Noctis the pain he craves, the wall to throw himself at he needs, and when at last Noctis skids down to earth and doesn't get back up, Gladio banishes the shield and the sword and goes to him.

His breathing is erratic, his eyes dark. He's there now, in that place where pain very easily translates to pleasure. Gladio could peel him apart now with little more than a word, and Noctis would go under and not emerge until Gladio told him to. 

Unfortunately, they don't have time for Gladio to do that. Not the way Noctis truly needs it - so for now, they'll have to make do with a temporary fix. 

Gladio smacks him across the face. "What did I say about risking your neck? Hmm? About picking fights you  _know_ you can't win? Answer me, Noctis."

"G-Gladio, I-I need--"

"I don't believe I asked for  _what you need._ I asked what I said about risking your neck and picking fights." He smacks him again. Wraps one hand around Noctis' throat just to feel him swallow. 

Noctis closes his eyes, trembling in his grip. "Don't be hasty and risk my neck over something we can come back to later. Or waste my effort."

"That's right. So why did you go after that Giant?" He strokes a thumb up and down the pulse point over his neck. It never fails to amaze him that Noctis trusts him this much. Enough to hold his literal life in his hands, and not destroy him.

"Because the voices won't stop. Because I'm too slow, too lazy, I need to get stronger faster, and I--"

Gladio covers his mouth with a hand. "That's enough," he says gently. Noctis trembles again, breathing deepening. He's eager, desperate for this. And if it were morning and they had time and Iggy and Prompto were still asleep, consequences be damned Gladio would take him right here and let the world hear his screams.

But as it is, until they reach a safe spot, a place to pause and breathe, they have to keep going.

"You have to be quiet," he orders, and Noctis practically melts against him, letting him maneuver him however he pleases. "Say it."

"I'll be quiet," Noctis murmurs. " _Please."_

He scrapes teeth across the shell of Noctis' ear, feels fingers dig into his shoulders. "I've got you, Noctis. Just leave everything to me."

He carries Noctis back to camp when it's over, his jacket wrapped around his shoulders. There's nothing on Gladio to indicate anything went amiss, and so when he finds Ignis waiting, he simply says, "Brat took off looking for a fight. We talked it out."

He's not sure whether it's good or bad that it isn't necessarily a lie.

Ignis looks at him then, and Gladio knows he can probably guess what's going on between them. But they both want Noctis safe and healthy, and for better or worse they both understand the dynamics that run between trusted people sometimes. The relationship between the Shield and the King is a very fluid one, constantly shifting to be whatever both parties need to survive.

Ignis sighs, and takes off his glasses, rubbing a tired hand across his face. "Take care of him, Gladio," he says, and he sounds so bone-weary for a second Gladio almost wants to take him in hand as well. But then Ignis puts his glasses back on, and the adviser face is back in full force. "I'll speak to him in the morning about recklessness. Get some sleep."

"You too, Specs. Won't do us any good if our master tactician isn't at his best."

Ignis smiles at that. "I will, in a bit."

He doesn't though. He stays up, and in the morning Gladio has Noctis take the wheel, and when Ignis falls asleep on their way to Lestallum, he orders Prompto to keep his voice down, and drags his jacket over the other man to block out the light. 

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

They finally find rest in Altissia, and the night before Noctis is slated to form a covenant with the Hydrean, Gladio makes good on his promise and finally takes Noctis apart. 

It helps a great deal that they're in the Leville, of all places, with walls so thick nothing can get through them. So Noctis can make as much noise as he wants, and he does with great enthusiasm as Gladio works him open and shatters every barrier he has. 

"Why the slapping?" he murmurs, curiousity wanting him to ask.

Noctis isn't quite gone into his headspace yet, so he's able so slur out an answer. "Makes me feel good," he mumbles. "Reminds me where I am. Present. What I'm doing."

So half a kink, half a reminder. "Do you want me to start hitting you more often?"

Noctis licks his lips, eyes fluttering shut as Gladio's fingers rock inside of him. "Nah," he mumbles. "Just want you. Whatever you want."

That's a mercy. Gladio still feels a touch guilty about the whole slapping thing, though knowing the reason behind it now makes it easier. He has another tool to help him fight Noctis' demons, and he'll use it as he needs to. 

For now though, what Noctis needs is put 'Prince Noctis' aside, and let Gladio hold the world for a bit.


End file.
